


strike the beast to the heart

by dolcemorte



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Comfort, Espionage, F/M, Gore, Post-Remake 3, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23628259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolcemorte/pseuds/dolcemorte
Summary: she was driven by an obligation, possessed by it, and he would follow her to the ends of the earth.
Relationships: Carlos Oliveira/Jill Valentine
Comments: 10
Kudos: 86





	strike the beast to the heart

A low-lit bar in Paris on a rainy night seemed like a dream vacation to most. A room full of drunks and men with loose lips, hopefully easily swayed by a charming smile. Not so much when the whole town has become a hub for Umbrella research, the stuff even the other branches found _unseemly._ Leads in the States were too risky after the destruction of Raccoon, especially since they already wanted her head. If labs like this could produce horrors like her pursuer from the city, it couldn't be left to continue. Chris was doing his own investigation here, but the two decided to keep it separate for now. 

The Nemesis still stalked her dreams, lips pulled away in a that permanent leer. Booming roars jolting her from fitful dreams, sweat-soaked and shaking. Open maw slavering, reaching to rip her soft innards apart. She feels it in her dreams, the rip of flesh pulling apart. The primal, animal part of her brain shrieking at her to flee this place. To go home and never look back. But there is no ' _home_ ' now, not even proper grave for it or her friends that had remained.

Jill dressed casually, her white blouse unbuttoned to reveal a line of creamy flesh. A black choker adorning her neck like deep, cavernous wound. Bloodless and drained. It's a calculated decision, of course. She was a panther in slacks and downing cheap alcohol faster than a trucker. Worn nails tapping against the polished mahogany table, trying to drown out the laughing drunkards seated behind them. The lights above bring to mind the the glow of Raccoon as she burned, on last light for a dying city. Bright, beautiful umber in the dusky morning sky.

Carlos sits across from her with a bemused smile, but keeps any thoughts to himself. It's a small mercy. She feels like prey in the eyes of a predator, the same unease prickling at the back at her neck she'd felt that fateful night at the Spencer Mansion. Their partnership has become a blessing in these times, both still not quite healed from the horrors they'd both faced not so long ago. They still have their hearts, their devotions, and they suffer for it. 

_Nothing if not confident, those S.T.A.R.S._

_Are we still a team?_

Carlos covers his mouth as a waiter decides now is the best time to begin animatedly chatting to Jill, her own French impressively able to keep up despite his speedy fumbling. The smile she gave the him was more painted on than the Mona Lisa. She's well armed if any of them try anything, a concealed knife in her boot and a pistol strapped to her side. Jill uses her beauty as a weapon, even more deadly than any gun. Every waiter smiled at her with a promise of debauchery. After dealing with all sorts of horrid beasts, these ' _men_ ' were hardly a threat.

It's a ploy. It brings men to their knees faster, Carlos knows this intimately. The city of love was full of suckers. Anyone with a lick of sense could tell she was just playing them, but if it got them any closer to Umbrella... Well, she was a tough woman. She could handle this. Didn't stop him from eyeing each man with barely concealed disgust. He wasn't afraid to start a bar fight if he had to. Might be fun.

Jill had dedicated her life to living on the edge of death, as she had been there many times now. So far this little detective work had been mostly horror-free. To walk into the yawning, slavering jaws of the wolves. A sad canticle of slavering, vicious beasts gnawing at her heels every hour. Every time she sees her own glassy, sick eyes in her nightmares they seem more sad. The dead had no fear, no feeling, and yet she know wonders if they are ever aware of their condition. Aware but unable to fight it. That's why she keeps fighting.

Unfortunately there was no telling how deep Umbrella had its roots here. They could be paying half the city to stay quiet at this point. Part of her expects the minute the dead start shambling unto the streets, dead eyes searching for fresh meat, forever hungering in un-death. She expect horrors here, knows underneath their feet are horrors growing, pulsating with nested mouths and killing claws.

Jill runs a hand through her short hair, fighting a wave of bone-deep tiredness as she digests the little information she had gleaned from the waiter. He was both clueless and about as charming as a plank of wood. They had both gotten up before the sun had fully risen to start checking leads and ended up with next to nothing. "Think we should turn in for the night?"

"Your call, partner." Carlos shrugs, trusting her judgement.

"Right. Let's call it a night. This place is a dead end." Jill sighs, downing her last pint. Forget leaving a tip in this dump.

\---

She would kill him one day. Maybe. Carlos thinks to himself as they enter their hotel room, cheap parading as lavish. The florescent lights are harsh, washing the room out in muted colors. They're both a little drunk and thankfully the bar was only a a few minute walk from the hotel. They had each other to lean on now. Jill was small in his arms, but he could feel her muscles, all lean and powerful. They take solace together in the rainy night, pretending for a second they could feel safe without the comfortable weight of gun in hand.

The night was balmy, beads of sweat already forming on the back of his neck. The old wounds, like a bullet lodged in his chest, ache in moist air. Reminds him that he, that the both of them, are still alive. Jill's gaze is inscrutable as they remove their wet boots by the faded door, paint peeling onto the off-white carpet. Her disappointment was palatable, another lead off the list. Thankfully Paris was a big city.

They remain huddled close, Jill happy to soak in the warmth of Carlos. His love is devastating in sincerity, his touch the only consolation in a bloody war on mankind's greed. She had felt the weight of his desire in the bar, during the whole of the night as she teased out information. The gravity of him pulling at her alcohol hazed mind. Now she just wanted to bask in his love. She has no true home other than the one they've made in each other's arms.

Jill pulls tight pants down past her pale thighs, wet clothing sticking to her skin uncomfortably. Carlos hums and his warm hands seem to strip her to the bone, clean the dirt and grime that seemed to cling to her very soul now. Large enough to easily swallow her own in his grip, his calloused fingers rubbing soothing circles into her hips. His fingers remarkably good at teasing out her moans, finding the sweetest points at the split her of legs. Tongue like hot velvet inside her mouth, toying with her own. She shudders at the thought, flushed thighs pressing together in need. His hot breath against her slick neck, finding the sensitive bud nestled inside her folds.

"Oh, so were jealous back at the bar? Can't keep your hands to yourself for long." Jill hums, tugging at the wet shirt clinging to the slopes and planes of his chest.

"Me? Nah." Carlos laughs, smiling easily as he sways the two of them. "None of them had hair as nice as mine."

Jill laughs, rolling her eyes playfully as she begins to shuck off her wet shirt. Carlos toys with her choker, pulling on it with playful insistence. Not the desperate fumbling the two had been used to. Willing to take their time to bask in the joys of being alive. Together. 

"Besides, you have all night to make it up to me," Carlos pouts.

**Author's Note:**

> i reject capcom's canon and replace it with my own.
> 
> had this in my drafts since my first fic and finally put the game down long enough to post it.


End file.
